Saviour
by Doc Scratch
Summary: I'm looking... at you now." Near muttered. "It's alright, I... don't mind. I... always knew... you'd be the one... to kill me." Implied Mello/Near, Spoilers up to the end.


A/N: ...I felt like writing something serious... Ugh I fail so much.

Disclaimer: I own nothing

Summary: "I'm looking... at you now." Near muttered. "It's alright, I... don't mind. I... always knew... you'd be the one... to kill me." Implied Mello/Near, Spoilers up to the end.

Title: Saviour

He stumbled backwards, tripping over the sprawled limb of the boy beneath him. Falling back to slam against the wall, he slid to the carpet. Mello tasted blood, realized he had bit through his lip when his head hit the wall. Shakily, he brought two fingers up, pressed them to his mouth, pulled them away again to stare.

He couldn't tell if any of that was his blood. He lifted the fingers of his other hand, but they weren't any better. So instead, he licked his lips, wincing as his tongue brushed the new cut. Yeah, definitely bleeding. Bleeding... like the boy lying on the floor. Mello shivered, deadened teal eyes shifting to examine the motionless form.

Was he still breathing? Mello couldn't tell. He hoped so. God, he really hoped so.

Suddenly there came an overwhelming urge to say something. He found himself unable to move anymore, and he needed to do _something_. To hear something, just to break the haze that had settled in. It was day, it hadn't been that long had it? The room was bright and colorful, right? That was a window over there, showing the sun bathed lawn, wasn't it? He needed to say something so that he'd be able to see the real room, not just the emotions now permeating it.

"That... wasn't supposed to happen..." The blonde breathed finally. "It... wasn't..." The haze didn't lift, but something did, and Mello could move again. Leaning forward, he pressed one hand into the dark blue carpet. It was soft, the fabric rasping gently across his palms as he crawled forward on hands and knees, back to the figure on the floor. Mello could hear faint birdsong from outside, the far away giggles of other children playing games, the faded brushing of the wind along the glass of the window. He could hear the rustling of his own clothing against the carpet and his skin as he moved.

The taste of bile rose to merge with the metallic blood in his mouth. Highly unpleasant. He wished he had one of his chocolate bars... he had, hadn't he? Where was it? No, don't think back. Don't think back. A wall rose in his mind and Mello almost gasped at being suddenly cut off. He swallowed as the need to vomit rose, pushing it back down. His vision honed in, why was it taking so long to reach the boy on the floor? He wasn't that far away... Oh, he had stopped moving. Mello started again, creeping up so that he was level with the boy's head, looking into that young face. It was so peacefully innocent in unconsciousness. So sweet and lacking in that hardness, that apathy, that had been in it ever since Mello could remember.

He felt a chill run up his spine, and immediately placed a hand over the boy's mouth and noise.

Mello sighed, relieved. He could feel breath. His hand went lower, the fingers pressing into the small boy's soft pale neck. Yes, a pulse, Mello could feel a pulse.

"He's not dead. He's not dead." Mello's vision grew fuzzy, then clear, and he started to see a drop of water land on the ivory cheek of the sleeping boy. A tear. He was crying. In relief. Carefully, so very carefully, Mello slipped an arm under the boy's neck and lifted. Had he been thinking straight he would have known better than to move him, but Mello wasn't thinking straight. Not at the moment.

"Near... oh no..." A single crimson drop pattered through Mello's fingers and joined the small puddle of it on the floor. Mello could feel where the white curls matted damply, could see the splotch of red as he lifted Near higher. Mello knelt there, the pale boy in his arms, panicking. What could he do? What should he do? He would do nothing. He sat there, feeling Near's life trickle through his fingers... He had to do something. Staggering under the weight and his own mangled emotions, Mello slipped one of his arms under Near's knees, picking him up bridal style. He headed for the door, zigzagging as tears slipped from his eyes.

"Mello..." Someone said. Eyes widening, Mello looked down hopefully. Deep gray orbs blinked up at him. There was a light fog covering them, as though Near was still unconscious only with his eyelids open.

"That wasn't supposed to happen..." Mello whispered.

"What... did you think..." Near had to keep pausing to breath. "Would happen... if you came in... and attacked me... like that?"

"It... wasn't supposed to be an attack." Mello replied. "Not really. I didn't mean to hurt you."

"Yes you... did." Near turned his head, wincing as he tried to alleviate the pressure on his wound. "Just in a... different way."

"Shut up! I'm sorry, alright? I just got so sick of you not looking at me... You're supposed to look at people when you talk to them." Mello hissed, more tears dropped onto Near as the blonde continued trying to get to the hallway.

"I'm looking... at you now." Near muttered. Mello made a miserable sound. "It's alright, I... don't mind. I... always knew... you'd be the one... to kill me." Mello snapped, racing out of the room with Near cradled safely to his chest.

"You're not gonna die! Shut up!" The blonde growled, skidding as the momentum tried to throw them into the wall again. "I'm going to save you, so just shut up and deal with it!"

* * *

After:

"Near, I'm sorry. I had no idea Mello was going to-" Hal began.

"It's fine." Near interceded. "The problem has been solved." Near cut the connection, letting his foot slip off the edge of the chair. It dangled next to his other one. He felt it was oddly appropriate.

"Near?" Rester asked, staring. Rester had never known Near to sit... well, normally.

"I'm fine." Near whispered.

* * *

"It was the murder notebook, I'm sure of it." Gevanni reported. "That's what he went to the bank vault for."

"A decoy." Near deduced. "Kira knew that we were watching Mikami, so he had him use a fake notebook knowing we would replace the pages. I underestimated him..."

"It's lucky that Mello kidnapped Takada, we would never have known." Rester grumbled.

"No." Near corrected. "It wasn't luck." The SPK members stared curiously. Nothing more appeared to be forthcoming. There was an uncomfortable silence for a few moments, and Hal spoke.

"What do you mean?" She asked, though she thought she might know.

"It's funny, isn't it?" Near mused, not exactly talking to Hal, or any of them really.

"Er... what is?" Gevanni ventured.

"I always knew. Mello would be the one to kill me." Near was looking at the floor thoughtfully, still speaking more to himself than anyone. "Instead, he saved me. It's funny, I'm always wrong about Mello, in one way or another. Mello's all I've ever been wrong about." He looked up, locking eyes with the person closest to him, who just happened to be Hal. "Why is that?" He asked her.

"I-I don't know." She stammered, surprised.

"I could never figure it out... and yet he thought I was better than him. I don't understand." Near looked away again, back at the monitors, watching all of them and none of them. "Now it's likely I never will."

"Why does it matter anyway?" Gevanni muttered.

"Because. He died saving me, so in a way... I killed him." Near replied. "That matters. But right now, we have to work on catching Kira. Gevanni, I need you to go to the vault, we're going to have to replace the real murder notebook."

* * *

Before:

Dear Mello,

I think I understand now. You wanted to hurt me, because you wanted me to acknowledge you. What you didn't know is, I ignored you because I didn't understand you, so I thought you weren't really important. But I was wrong. I'm almost always wrong about you, Mello. I still think you're going to kill me, because I don't believe you'd let anyone else do it. You just didn't want to kill me that day, so you saved me. You didn't want to kill me because you hadn't defeated me yet. You want to beat me first, to make it clear you're number one, and then you will kill me.

That is why, isn't it? That is what I have deduced. However, it has only a 35 percent chance of being correct, since I am wrong about you so often.

-Near

* * *

Dear Near,

You're wrong. Again. Deal with it.

-Mello

END.

A/N: Yeah, the slash is only really there if you squint. And I fail at angst. Sorries. I tried. Reviews please?


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